Dear Kid,

It’s that time of year again.

The time of year when you go to work when it’s dark and come home when it’s dark. The time of year when bears and people would really rather think about hibernation.

The time of year when people worry about whether coffee tastes good out of red cups rather than worrying about the important things like war, famine, and whether it’s legal to play fantasy football.

It’s a list-making time of year. (OK, for me, it is always a list-making time of year, but right now it seems everyone is making lists. Some are even checking them twice.)

We’re making lists about who will do what chore when they come home from college. We’re making lists about menus and ingredients and who will eat what and do not get Aunt Martha started about her cataracts.

We’re making lists about emails to send and cards to write and decorations to purchase. We’re making lists about what we need to take when we travel and what time we absolutely, positively MUST leave the house in order to avoid traffic and make our connection. We’re making lists about getting the cleaning done and the baking done and do not talk about politics with Aunt Martha no matter what.

We’re making lists of what to be thankful for and what chapters to study and what homework is due. We’re making lists of what can be accomplished before the end of the year and what will have to wait until 2016. We’re making lists of home repairs and hoping the weather will read the list and not make things difficult.

We’re making lists of what’s on sale when and whether we can live without a muffin pan that lets you bake 48 mini muffins at once. We’re making lists of which doctor appointments have been scheduled and whether we can still get in for a teeth cleaning during winter break.

We make our lists, knowing that some of the things will get done and some will almost get done and some will not get done despite our best efforts. But we do what we can and decide to celebrate being with the people we love rather than fretting about whether we have enough decorations. (We still hope no one brings up the presidential debates with Aunt Martha.)

And for the record, coffee tastes the same no matter what color cup you drink from. Ditto for the design on the cup. To all those who are fretting about it, get over yourselves.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

As predicted (by me), the Bengals won yesterday. Not only did they win because they played better football, but because it was the Halloween weekend game. And as I previously noted, the Bengals are destined to win on Halloween.

Halloween colors: Orange and Black
Bengals’ colors: Orange and Black

Halloween Mascot: Scary Cat
Bengals: Scary Cats

And this year they won like they’re supposed to.

Also, as my friend Julie told me, the Bengals win a crazy percentage of the games they play wearing orange jerseys. Who Dey!

In puppy news, on November 3, 1957, the Soviet Union launched Laika the AstroDog into space. Technically, Laika was a Siberian husky and she had been living on the streets of Moscow prior to being conscripted into the Soviet space program.

Laika was not asked if she wanted to be hurled into an oxygen-free, zero gravity environment. These days, animal rights groups would move mountains (and space ships) if anyone proposed that sort of test. But this was a) back in the Day and b) in the Soviet Union, so Laika didn’t need to say Da.

The Soviets created a canine life-support system but forgot to put in long-lasting batteries. Laika survived for several days but died when her batteries ran out. In true Soviet Fashion, she is memorialized in a couple of monuments.

The Sputnik 2 experiment was so much fun (and yielded such important data) that the Soviets launched at least a dozen more dogs into flight (five of whom died).

I’m sure there are people who think it’s just marvy that dogs are able to help humans learn about space travel. I’m not one of them. I think they should have asked Astro (from The Jetsons) and they could have learned all they needed to know.

What a terrible piece of history.

I need to go lie down.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It may (or may not) surprise you to learn that you are not the only child heading to college in the near future. And it may (or may not) surprise you to learn that those other children heading to college soon also have mothers. Furthermore, it may (or may not) surprise you to learn that I have been talking with several of those parentals. (Several–as in many more than one. So don’t go blaming anyone in particular.)

Speaking on behalf of Mothers Everywhere Who Have a Child Leaving for College Soon: Thou Art Still Here.

“Huhh?” you mumble. “What are you talking about? I’m barely awake. Can you try again using small words? Preferably in a language I speak?”

So much for “I’m awake and I speak English, so yeah I know what you mean.”

There are (at least) two definitions of “living under our roof”. One means We are supporting you financially the other is You are literally sleeping in the same abode we are.

Let’s focus on the implications of Physically in Our Abode.

I know you have mentally already made the move to college. However, while you may have mentally moved on, you are physically still here. And as Fiona says, there are rules and there are strictures.

Which means you need to move your own dishes from in front of the TV all the way to the kitchen and into the dishwasher.

I have been trying to get a good set of elves for years. You know, the kind that show up in the night while everyone is sleeping and get all the chores done. Unfortunately, we remain elves-less (not to be confused with Elvis, but he has left the building and I’m not sure he was ever all that good at washing dishes).

I have also been trying to get one of the anti-static/dirt sucking machine things that you have to go through in order to get into a sealed off hospital room (I watch House, so I know about these things). If we had something like that, we’d prevent dirt from coming into the house. Then if we could get everyone (including Booker) to wear a clean suit, we wouldn’t have to vacuum nearly as often. Yes, it would make eating more difficult, but that would cut down on crumbs. Until we figure it out, the house needs to be dusted, vacuumed, and otherwise cleaned. You are expected to do your fair share.

Speaking of expectations, the World’s Most Wonderful Puppy expects to be walked and fed at regular intervals. To be fair, he hopes to be fed at three-second intervals throughout the entire day, but he gets very insistent at dinnertime which—according to tradition and his tummy—is 6pm. Not 6-whatever. In addition, we have had a chore-chart for Lo These Many Years and I know you and Pi have memorized who walks and feeds the pooch which night. While I am vaguely entertained by the notion that you are shocked (shocked! I tell you) that it’s your night, I am not at all entertained by the fuss, eye rolling, and delays.

So for several more days (several meaning “6”), please fold laundry, wash dishes, and otherwise be actively helpful around the house.

Your parents appreciate your kind cooperation in this matter.

Love, Mom

P.S. These expectations will be in full effect during vacations, interim sessions, etc.

Clip of Fiona from Shrek provided for your viewing pleasure.